Kurapika had completely discerned what the second stanza of his prophecy entailed.

Not only it was pretty literal (wasn't the prophecy supposed to be in metaphor form?); the outcome of this situation was even made clear. The scheme Kuroro was about to pull would work: they would be able to get inside Tserriednich's cabin—his chamber, and if it would go along the prophecy, they wouldn't find the treasures, the Kuruta eyes, inside.

And by the looks of it, Kuroro didn't know it.

So he really didn't look into his prophecy?

But it was now too late: he couldn't work on something to do damage control here. Tserriednich's bloodshot eyes studied Kurapika's feature from head to foot, each swipe of glance examined every inch of his body, and they lingered particularly at his face, on his eyes.

"Kurapika," Kuroro mouthed with his baritone voice. "Your eyes."

'You scumbag!' He eyed him viciously. Kuroro responded with a calm, discreet nod and eyes expressing assurance. The bastard was really going to do this.

And Kurapika figured he was fairly deep in this shit anyway so why not go all the way down? After all, he was curious of the prophecy's accuracy and this would prove it.

But before anything else, he had made a memo to kill Kuroro Lucifer later for the stolen kiss soon right after clearing this disaster the bastard got him into.

Kurapika did his best to calm down. He breathed in, closed his eyes, knowingly altered his eyes color, and languidly opened them, his gaze straight right into Tserriednich's mesmerized one. He brought his hands up in surrender, eyes not leaving the prince's.

"We are very sorry, sirs. Please spare us," Kuroro pleaded, voice low and apologetic.

"This is an out of bound area, how did you get this far of the boundary?" The guard questioned, his gun aimed towards Kuroro's head.

"We... snuck in when the guards weren't watching. And we believe this part of the boundary is still passable for the guests. We humbly beg for your pardon, we will leave as soon as—"

"Put the gun down, Friist." Tserriednich raised one hand and told his guard off. Kuroro swallowed the rest of his words. "Well, well. If it isn't a young, forbidden secret love affair." Kurapika visibly shuddered at that. So this was what Kuroro was getting at, huh?"

"We didn't mean to disturb you in any way, Your Highness. We are..." Kuroro purposely trailed off.

"... Just looking for a place to be alone so no one can see you getting it on. I can see that much."

Somebody please take Kurapika anywhere but here. He blushed not out of embarrassment but because of utter disgrace and disgust.

"Young man," Tserriednich regarded Kurapika a look. "I remember you. You are Prince Woble's bodyguard, aren't you?"

"Yes, sir," Kurapika bowed ever so curtly.

"This is a surprise. I never thought there was a survivor of the sacred Kuruta tribe."

"I am Kurapika, the head of the fourteenth Kakin prince's bodyguards and from the Hunter Association as well. I humbly apologize for whatever inconvenience my companion and I may have cause—"

"Don't sweat it, Kurapika," the way his name rolled off so casually on Tserriednich's tongue caused Kurapika's skin to crawl. "There's no need for the two of you to fret. This is such a petty incident and we can overlook it. In fact, I understand your situation. However, this place is still not the right one for you guys to just do your private business."

"We know," oh, Kuroro would pay so dearly later for making Kurapika play this rubbish game. "... Just that this little piece of crap doesn't know how to hold himself back."

"I already said sorry," Kuroro with a convincing petulant pout reasoned out.

"As if saying sorry will undo what happened."

"Oh come on, Kurapika. We're in this together."

Kurapika purposely half triggered his scarlet eyes. "For god's sake. Shut up."

"Okay, gentlemen. There is no need to blame each other—and you can now put your hands down. Like I said, I understand. You are young and you can't help it. I won't tell a soul about what I saw, rest assured my guards will bring the secret down their graves. Now, for the best part of the story; I'm willing to let you inside my cabin to continue where you left before we interrupted but for a small price of course, that is if you don't mind—"

Kurapika's poor little soul shattered into smithereens with his guts melting into a pathetic pool of sickening acid. That was how graphic he felt about Tserriednich's assumption of him and Kuroro having a romantic relationship.

"Really?" Kuroro beamed and pulled a fake suppressed excitement.

"You bastard. No."

"But he said he doesn't mind."

"And it comes with a price so still, no."

"Hey, I haven't told what the end of my bargain is, so let me finish if you will," there was a twitch of annoyance on Tserriednich's brow when Kuroro cut him off earlier. Both of them fell silent. "You see, I'm a fan of ancient stories. I'm fascinated with historical events, generally, and my favorites are stories of revolution, tragedy to be exact, that brought our generation to what it is now. I'll have to admit too that I think, one of the saddest parts of it is the annihilation of the Kuruta clan, who had been given the gifts of the Scarlet eyes. I want to know," he looked Kurapika in the eyes again, "what exactly happened that day when the tribe was wiped out, and how you survived the massacre."

"You mean you want me to tell you how my tribesmen died in some culprits' hands and how their eyes were stolen from their corpses?" One more uncalculated word about his clan from this asshole and he swore he would bring him down, his guards and nen beast be damned.

"Yes," Tserriednich faked a sympathetic look of condolence, complete with a lowering of his head and softening of his eyes. He let a second or two to pass then his eyes lit up and looked back at Kurapika with what the Kuruta could interpret as... obscene fondness.

His sources told him that Prince Tserriednich had a number of strange hobbies, looking into the dark side of the history included, but for him to be outright interrogative about someone's dark past with maniacal interest without even caring about its sensitivity and its effects on the person involved was sure insensitive of him. The more he proved how uncaring sociopathic jerk he was. But as much as he wanted to beat him up and extract the eyes' whereabouts out of him, he had ridden along Kuroro's drama play too long to walk out. He had to see it through the end.

"It would be a pleasure to have a chat with you but I'm afraid I won't be able to entertain Your Highness tonight. Also, you might find this anti-climatic but I was not in Rukuso Province when the massacre happened. I was travelling outside our village."

"I see," disappointment was evident in Tserriednich's tone. The light furrowing of his brows seemed to mean he still had a question or two to ask. "But wait, if my memory serves me right, I remember that the massacre happened about five to six years ago, so we can assume that you are still underage when you left your province. As what the books told me, Kurutas were not allowed to leave the village until they reach the legal age. How did you manage? Did you sneak out and run away?"

"No. I left the village rightfully, consented by the villagers and my parents. I was given permission to go after passing a number of tests."

'Now that must be why there was a survivor,' Kuroro thought, interested to hear more. He dared not to raise any question and let Tserriednich do the talking.

"What did you do right after finding out the annihilation, then?" Kurapika was growing more and more irritated with this jerk sticking his nose into his personal matters. As if he would satisfy him with an answer.

"I'm sorry, Your Highness. I think that's none of your business anymore."

Kuroro mentally whistled. So he wasn't losing his cool solely on Genei Ryodan, huh? Alright, it was his time to shine. "I beg your pardon for his rudeness, Your Highness. Kurapika is sensitive when the subject of his clan is involved. Thank you so much for the offer, it is truly and honor but I suppose we have to decline. We have bothered you more than enough. If you'll excuse—"

"I apologize my being interrogative and lack of sensitivity knowing that my questions can bring bitter memories of your past. But please, be my guest for tonight. In return, I will forget that this incident ever happened. I won't ask anything about the Kuruta clan again, I assure you that. Just an hour or so, lend me your company."

Tserriednich was being persistent. Desperate. And Kuroro knew why. They were sort of birds of the same feather after all, bur Kuroro was certain they wouldn't suit to flock together. Kurapika seemed to sense what he had in mind, too.

Kuroro then learned something from his invitation: he wasn't a nen-user. He was underestimating him and the Kuruta (well, kissing in public and in an unauthorized place at that was something idiotic to do so that couldn't be helped), and he wanted to know more about the two of them.

This must be some form of a test.

"I'm in if Kurapika doesn't mind," Kuroro expected the Kuruta to refuse right away, but agreeing might ensue suspicion. Let him struggle for a decision.

Tserriednich's cabin might be empty, but this chance of getting closer to him was what Kurapika was waiting for. Just a shake hand was enough, yet now he could go for a closer look that he could find a chink on his armor and even chuck him out of the succession war (one less foe to pose danger to his employers plus doing an entire nation a favor by preventing a psycho megalomaniac serial killer to reign as a the new king), so why not?

"I don't know how we could serve a company to join Your Highness tonight but I guess it would be extremely rude to refuse the earnest invitation for the second time: if it is not too much of a bother, it will be an honor to be invited by His Excellency," Kurapika tried hard not to choke on his own lies.

"See? He's only rankled when it's about his clan," Kuroro teased like he and Kurapika were the best of friends.

"Shut up," Kurapika bit back.

"And when I piss him off," Kuroro added with a happy grin.

Kurapika mentally scoffed at that. How true.

"To my private cabin, then. Shall we?" Tserriednich, Kurapika presumed, was buying the crap they made impromptu. He was getting a feeling too that he was annoyed at Kuroro's attitude (what was he playing at anyway, an immature idiot?). He swept an arm to a side like your most hospitable host of the house and started to walk ahead of them, leading the way, with his guards closely behind him, their eyes darting warily at them. Kuroro and Kurapika followed.

"Ah, Kurapika," Tserriednich turned to the back a little to spare Kurapika a swift glance. "I will bet that some magical beasts that are invisible to normal people's eyes paid Prince Woble's cabin a visit the other day."

Kurapika returned the gaze with his face straight. "Are you referring to the nen beasts, Sir?"

"Nen. That one. Yes."

"... Yes, Your Highness. How did you know?"

"Some passed by on my place too, according to my guards. They were dealt with accordingly, fortunately. I thought someone targeted me and tried to attack, but it seemed all the princes had their guests of their own to entertain that time. I also take it that this has something to do with the succession war," they reached the twin door of Tserriednich's room and two of his guards opened it. They stepped inside, and Tserriednich's continued talking. "You know about it too, don't you? Even your boyfriend must be informed."

Kurapika visibly flinched, his heart felt like it stopped altogether and the need to snarl in exasperation flared inside him.

Kuroro felt himself snicker upon seeing Kurapika's violent reaction. The boy seriously was poor in hiding his emotions. It was pretty hilarious.

"Kurapika is clammed up with work related issues but I indeed felt auras from all around the deck. So this journey is actually a succession fight between the Kakin heirs, I see."

"And you have to keep that a secret. Are we clear?" Kurapika spat in a nagging tone.

"Roger, sir," Kuroro agreed with a shrug. Nen beasts and succession war? Now this was getting more and more interesting.

"Pardon the intrusion," they said in unison (Kurapika blinked in surprise while Kuroro's lips quirked a little up).

"Come in," Tserriednich walked further to the living room and led the two into a couch. "Is there anything you want? Coffee, tea?"

"We are fine, thank you." Kurapika sat with another beckon of Tserriednich's hand; the prince took the single couch across them. Kuroro was blatantly looking around like an ignorant fool before plopping down right next to him.

Kurapika almost hurled at Kuroro and pushed him away for how close they were: the bastard's leg was touching the side of his, and as if intruding to his personal space wasn't enough, the forsaken master thief even raised his arm up, dropped it down behind Kurapika's back, with his hand on his hipbone. Kuroro even had the nerves to tighten his hold and draw Kurapika even more impossibly closer to his body.

Kurapika was stiff, blood boiling in melting point yet face remaining stoic. Oh, he wanted to decapitate that warm hand pressing on his side. He convinced himself more not to give in to the urge and kept it cool despite the bastard's sudden need to brush him thumb on the fabric of his suit in apparent intention of riling him up instead of glaring at the man (and see his smug look again), he opted to look around and divert his attention (because he likely wouldn't make it through this if he let the fact that his archenemy was sitting this close to him and clinging of all things get into his head)

Thanks god that he wasn't blushing.

His eyes instantly fell on a bizarre oil panel painting hanging on the wall.

Kurapika was familiar with this painting. He had seen this image before... in a book, he remembered. He forget its title, however.

On the painting was a panorama of what Kurapika could interpret as a living hell.

Legions of skeletons were decimating a city, wreaking havoc and indiscriminatingly killing human beings on spree. The characters were drawn small yet detailed, and each of them captioned different meanings and symbols. Barren land with dark clouds thick with smokes from burning debris, corpses both naked and clothed were in the forefront of the image, all of them reflecting different kinds of people. Man, woman, children, commoners, cardinal, even a king.

A woman was singing, apparently had gone out of her mind. The dying king watched as his chest of gold was taken by a skeleton. Depiction of ancient methods of execution that humans had made themselves was present: the headsman, breaking wheel, and gallows.

Every human was dying a merciless death.

"The Triumph of Death by Pieter Bruegel the Elder. 1560... or 62... if I'm not mistaken," Kuroro cited in brusque voice. He leaned against the couch, hand still on Kurapika's waist.

"Impressive, Mister...?" Tserriednich smiled.

"Kuroro," Kurapika snapped his eyes to Kuroro's way. Kuroro ignored the sudden movement and went on. "Kuroro Lucifer, Your Highness."

"Very well, you impressed me, Kuroro-san."

"The original had been displayed in a museum in Madrid, so I'll take that that is just a replica, no offense intended," Kurapika put in, not wanting Tserriednich to probe more about the bastard's identity (which was useless anyway for he surely would look into information about him later. Heck, why did he give his real name to begin with!?) because that would blow their act. He couldn't afford that as of now.

Now, Tserriednich seemed to brim with stranger happiness, and its obscenity had grown creepier. He eyed Kurapika like he was a fellow fan of the painter and he so wanted to befriend him. "None taken. Yes, this is an authentic replica given be a close friend as a present. Beautiful, isn't it?"

"One of my favorites," Kuroro chipped in although he wasn't asked "Inspired by one of the greatest loss of the history, the Black Death."

"That painting is associated with more than that plague outbreak that claimed millions of lives. It depicts death by the hands of chaos, destruction, senseless fights, war. Given that my clan has died a pointless and cold death, I am not that into those genres of art."

"Me neither, but I'll admit that the style is captivating. There's a beauty in it despite the gore message it flaunts. And you know, I kind of believe that underneath the destruction lies something new. Something that one must be looking for to be complete. Like that."

"Kuroro-san, you seemed to have the eyes of an artist."

"I'm an enthusiast, you can say. I'm more on antique books, so is Kurapika, but of course I can't say no to rare relics, too."

Tserriednich curved his lips into a knowing smile. "I can see that," and turned to give Kurapika an appreciative beam that sent nasty chills to his spine.

"Say, Your Highness. May I know what your plans are should you win as the next new king of Kakin kingdom?"

"Wonderful question, Kuroro-san. Let me answer that quick and easy: I'll make the Kakin Kingdom a better place."

Yeah, right. Both Kuroro and Kurapika remained silent, waiting for Tserriednich to explain further.

"Triumph of Death expresses judgment among human race, an inevitable apocalypse that would dawn anytime, anywhere, and by the looks of how far we've come living our lives, the end wouldn't be easy on us. The world has undeniably been filled with all types of trash and as the next king, I'll take it upon myself to commence the segregation.

"The pathetic king in this painting is nothing but a greedy ball of ignorance: if he'd been an effective leader, the skeletons—the Death—wouldn't come that close to his kingdom's shore. Look, he's even just in a corner of the painting, still about the gold and power even on the last breath of his life. A true king isn't just about wealth. Leading an entire nation requires top notch intelligence, a vast expanse of knowledge, a deep understanding of people to rule and dominate them. And as this might suggest that I am just some arrogant fool boasting around, amongst all the other princes, I possess all the qualities of the exact leader the nation needs because more than gold, a king should know how to appreciate art."

There was a pause—then a crisp, loud laughter punctured through the air. It was coming from Kuroro Lucifer.

Kurapika rolled his eyes to him, while Tserriednich looked offended. Seeing the change of his guards' mien, he held himself back and remarked. "Humans are just so fascinating, don't you think?"

"... Exactly my sentiments, Kuroro-san. Particularly the young ones. They are blessed with bright future, potentials that they bring about especially when confronted with extreme situations."

"This ship carried a lot of those potentials you are looking for, Your Highness. I know some personally," Kuroro chuckled and squeezed his hand on Kurapika waist.

"And that's what makes this journey worthwhile. I'll get to have a good fight against my siblings while the humanity tries to broaden the scope of its territory. Survival of the fittest. A perfect subject for yet another priceless piece of art, and once I win the war and get back to our mainland along with the most powerful men who outlasted all odds and claim the Great Dark Continent, I won't just bring victory home: I'll create an everlasting masterpiece that will remind the human race of my greatness and change the world into a new one with me as the new god."

The fact that Kuroro Lucifer and Tserriednich Hui Guo Rou were actually getting along was disturbing enough: hearing this man's out of this world delusions and seeing the severity of his megalomania was making Kurapika feel like throwing up but all he could manage was to scoff yet again.

"Not only we have the same principles in life, we even share the same taste when it comes to passion," much to Kurapika's dismay, Kuroro slid his hand over his arm until it reached his hand, and there he slipped his fingers into Kurapika's and clasped their palms together.

Okay. That was it. Kurapika had enough of these harassments.

He retraced his hand back rather violently and pretended to reach for his phone. "My break is over. I have to go back," he peered at it, reading the time. It turned out to be true. "If you still want to talk then go on, have fun," Kurapika said in sarcasm and stood on his feet, curtly bowing to Tserriednich. "Thank you so much for your time, Your Highness. It was truly an honor."

"Ah, no. I'll go back with you. We can't overstay our welcome, you know. Thank you for inviting us over, Your Highness. It was fun," Kuroro bowed too.

"It certainly is," Tserriednich, to Kurapika's bewilderment, responded to their acts of respect with an offer of shake hands. He lent one hand to Kuroro. He gingerly took it, bowing his head again.

Kurapika held his breath when Tserriednich turned to him, one hand reaching out, face plastered with serene amusement. "It was nice to meet the two of you."

"Likewise, Your Highness," triumph sparked inside Kurapika. He took the offered hand with the softest clutch. It was good that his tolerance to Kuroro's so called drama play paid off or else he would make sure to throw him out of the Black Whale once they stepped out of Tserriednich's cabin. Wait, he should still do that whether the scheme worked out or not, right? As if he'd let the bastard go unscathed after stealing his—heck—first kiss.

"Oh, and by the way. In case you guys want to have some sneaked quality together alone, my place is always open for you. Feel free to stop by anytime."

Kurapika took a deep intake of breath, faked a smile and shot a glare to an amused Kuroro. "I think more than looking for a place to do unspeakable things, someone here must learn how to control himself and hold back, right—Kuroro?"

Kuroro tagged along and scratched the back of his head petulantly. "Yes, boss."

"We wish you good luck with the succession war, Your Highness. We'll be taking our leave."

"See you around, sir. Have a good day," Kuroro bade then he and Kurapika started to walk to the twin door. It was opened by the guards and it closed behind them with a creaking thud.

The two of them were silent until they reached the boundary of Tserriednich's cabin. Once out of anyone's eyeshot, Kurapika swung a nen punch to Kuroro's face with a speed of a lightning.

Which Kuroro caught with his own hand like it was nothing.

"That's an oddball of a prince, don't you think?" Kuroro commented like he and Kurapika were sharing a peaceful coffee drink.

"You think so? I was under the impression that the two of you were having a good time chatting with each other back then," he pulled his hand out of Kuroro's grasp. "And so much for your game plan to use me as a bait and wait, with a pretense that we are seeing each other of all things? I thought you can do better than that," Kurapika speared him the sharpest glare he could ever muster.

"You seemed to be more disoriented and unnerved than what I expected with what I did so I'll take a wild guess. That was your first kiss, wasn't it?"

Kurapika's angry blush kind of gave it away when it took time for him to work on a comeback.

"Oops. Sorry," Kuroro raised both hands in fake surrender. "But on the bright side, we both get what we wanted. You are now closer to Tserriednich and I learned how slack his security is. We passed his test, you know. It's a shame that we didn't get to see some more of his assets other than that replica painting but I guess there's a secret room in there where he hides his loots. Oh, and I'll have you know that should we find the Kuruta eyes before you do, it's considered ours."

"Too bad your chances aren't as fat as you think because as far as that prophecy told me, Tserriednich's cabin is empty."

"You mean... So I was really mentioned in you prophecy, huh?"

"The truce, the attempt to get inside Tserriednich's room, even that forsaken kiss. The prophecy's got it all covered."

"Er, nice?" Kuroro shrugged. "I told you it's the real deal."

"Who cares. The damage is done, however, and I won't waste time for you more than I already have but let me make one warning, Lucifer—"

With another quick lash of his hand, Kurapika summoned his Judgment Chain and threw its tip right straight to Kuroro's forehead, just some inches away from the bandaged cross-shaped tattoo, and stopped there. His Kuruta eyes were activated.

"One more trick like that and I'll make sure you'll be done for good. Get away from me."

"... Copy. I swear to avoid you from now on so I hope you do so too. Let's call it a day, shall we? Bye-bye. See you around. Oh, by the way," Kuroro conceitedly turned his back and left with a tinkle of his hand, leaving a comment that had Kurapika fuming behind him. "Nice soft lips you've got."

"Your Highness," Tserriednich's butler served a glass of whiskey to the prince. "Those two... were the first ever guests you let outside your abode alive."

"Interesting fellows, aren't they? They exceeded my expectations. But more than that... that Kuruta's eyes. They are so bright, so alive... more captivating than that defective one I have."

"But sir, don't you think you have said too much to them? They are no doubt a pair of highly capable fighters, particularly that man with the dark eyes."

"Why, are you underestimating my ability to gauge one's talents and capabilities? I know from the start that they are people I can't take easily. But we'll get to that, now that I've finally found what I've been searching for," Tserriednich gulped a swig of his whiskey and lowly, gradually contorted his face with a maniac's grin. "... The perfect canvass for my biggest art project ever."